


dans une autre vie

by bag_of_dragons, Elendraug



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Roleplay Logs, Wing Kink, lewd banter, look okay they fuck a lot I don't know what you want from me, nothing will convince me that Balthazar does not have an AMAZING liquor cabinet, or just pretty much a giant home bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bag_of_dragons/pseuds/bag_of_dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Crowley approaches Balthazar for help seeking Purgatory, and the two realize they've got a lot in common. (RP log.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thus starts my trend of naming Balthazar-centric fics after [Céline Dion songs](http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=rFxme7cCGY0).
> 
> Porn's in the next chapter, when we finish writing the scene.

It was an understatement to call the place a _house_ , when truly it was a tremendously extravagant mansion, but Balthazar for one was glad to have any place at all to call 'home.' Heaven was hardly an option after one had faked his own death and made off with quite a bit of fantastic loot.

He'd had a fondness for piano since the 18th century, and this was finally his opportunity to learn. Not that it'd take long, given that his vessel had taken lessons as a child, but it was something fun to dabble in.

 

Crowley had spent a great deal of his free time considering his options. Free time was something he'd admittedly quite a lot of since reorganizing Hell—no one could ever say Crowley didn't get things done—and he'd spent it wisely.

After a trip to a decidedly prestigious brothel of which he was a founding member, Crowley had opted to make good on his promise to himself to finally get the ball rolling on this Purgatory situation. Nothing he had researched and no one he had spoken to on the subject had been any sort of helpful. Well, there had been one tiny bit of information, but he was going to need help to make anything a reality, and he knew just the person to ask.

He popped in unannounced, giving the lavish room a good once over before, well, announcing himself.

"Love what you've done with the place."

Balthazar had become fairly notorious, despite his best efforts to keep himself under wraps, and Crowley could practically feel the potential the moment he appeared in the mansion. The angel hadn't even bothered drawing up any sigils, and he definitely appreciated the finer things in life.

Crowley had heavily considered going to Castiel, but Castiel was a bit too close to the Winchesters, and the demon needed someone a bit more nonpartisan. Balthazar was certainly that, if the stories were to be believed.

 

"You're interrupting my performance," Balthazar chided. His fingertips flew across the keys (authentic ivory, these ones) and he paused halfway through Für Elise to look Crowley up and down. "I don't believe we've met, but I've certainly heard plenty about you."

The piano bench made an unpleasant sound as Balthazar scooted it backwards so he could stand. He closed the lid of the piano—no sense getting dust on the instrument—and patted it appreciatively.

"Do you like Beethoven?" he asked.  
"I think you play him better than the man himself," Crowley told him with a shrug, not really bothering to make eye contact, as he was still having a look around the room. "Of course, how well can a deaf man actually play?"

The demon smiled, looking Balthazar over properly for the first time. He had chosen a nice vessel, one which was attractive enough while remaining unassuming, and in fact, the house he'd moved into was less innocuous than the man himself. Crowley found this curious, as he had a tendency to pass the time in rat holes if it meant guaranteeing his personal safety, and he was far more interested in his personal appearance than that of the space around him.

"I kid, of course, but you do play beautifully. Did your vessel play, or do angels just have an ear for music?"

 

Balthazar laughed, loud and indulgent. It was his house. He didn't have to be quiet. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"You met him, then? I wasn't around Germany at the time. I believe that was when..." He paused, scratched at the beginnings of a beard on his chin, and nodded confirmation. "Yes, I was in the Ottoman Empire, primarily."

He cracked his knuckles as he spoke. "The Heavenly Host has a near fetish for music, to tell you the truth, so that's given me a slight advantage. My vessel played as well. Mostly as a hobby."

Balthazar gave Crowley a once-over before turning on his heel and heading towards the home bar. "I imagine you're not just here to chat, but I'm going to offer you a drink, anyway." 

 

"You're right about that, but I much prefer to conduct business with a drink in hand."

Crowley grinned appreciatively, watching Balthazar as he walked away. The demon had a habit of doing that. He had a lot of appreciation for the human form and was quite sentimental about it if anyone bothered to find out.

He would have liked to have discussed further the fetishes of the Heavenly Host, but Crowley decided to get down to brass tacks instead.

"You've been stirring up quite a fuss. That's certainly put you on my map, and I must say I'm impressed."

 

“Mmm, nobody was supposed to hear about that,” he replied, evasive. “How much do you know about little ol’ me?”

Two tumblers clinked down on the countertop. He dropped a few ice cubes into both. “What’s your poison, Mr. Crowley?”

It was plain rude to not know the names of those who held positions of power in various realms. Balthazar was far more cultured than all that.

 

"Glencraig, if you have it," Crowley replied with a polite nod.

He normally wouldn't have expected anyone to have his particular brand, especially since it was no longer being bottled. Given that this was an angel, and one with a talent for procuring unique items, however, Crowley thought the odds were stacked relatively high in his favor.

"You want the truth, no doubt. I heard you ran," The demon was all smiles and charm, turned up to eleven but not obnoxiously so; it was a natural look on him, and he was good at playing to his strengths. 

"Looking out for one's own backside is an important trait in my line of work," he continued. "I think the Host would do well to follow your example."

 

Balthazar shook his head. “I don’t have yours, I’m afraid, but I’ve a fifty year Dalmore, and you can’t go wrong with that.”

These glasses would have to go, however. He tossed the ice out into the sink and snapped his fingers to dry and shelve the tumblers. In their place, he took down two sherry copitas and, holding them by the base of the stem, set them down gently on the countertop.

“The ice wasn't going to do you any favors,” he said, “But you already knew that. And as far as Heaven’s concerned, they’re not exactly looking for feedback on how best to improve morale, nevermind employee retention.”

 

"All the more reason to encourage entrepeneurship," Crowley said with a nod. "It makes it that much easier to carve out your own little slice of heaven. Filling a niche, if you will. And I can see that you have."

He gestured vaguely at their surroundings, looking at and noting a few interesting pieces which were undoubtedly stolen, as Balthazar didn't seem the type to be interested in replicas.

"I wasn't just playing nice when I said I was impressed."

 

Balthazar poured him a very generous glass of the very expensive whiskey. He could always get more, after all. 

“Is ‘nice’ how you normally play?” He poured a second drink for himself, and motioned Crowley over to join him on some high-end lounge chairs. “That’s not what most would expect from the King of Hell.”

He picked up both drinks, handed one to Crowley, then sat down and elevated his feet on a matching (of course it was matching) ottoman. It wasn't just the empire he’d been a fan of.

 

Crowley shrugged lazily, drink in hand, as he followed Balthazar to the lounge and sat down, crossing his leg and smoothing the crease in his slacks.

"I adapt to suit the occasion. I'm sure you can relate. I have no reason not to play nice with you, Balthazar. I'm calling on you for reasons of business, sure, but that doesn't mean it can't also be a friendly visit."

He smiled, taking a sip of his whiskey, the taste of which pleased him greatly. Crowley raised his eyebrows appreciatively and nodded to the angel seated across from him. 

 

"That's the problem with our fellows, isn't it?" Balthazar took a sip of his own drink, his eyes still locked on the fabric of Crowley's slacks. They were equally particular about their vessels' attire, it seemed. "They completely resist change. It's holding them back, if you ask me... which _they_ didn't, of course."

 

"Oh they never do," Crowley added with a hint of disgust. "That's why I took it upon myself to do things as I saw fit. And I'd be lying if I said it hadn't gotten me far. You'd be surprised how lazy most demons are, and how ill-conceived their plans, if they bother to have any. Fortunately, I'm not like most demons."

Crowley raised his glass to punctuate the statement, eyes carefully locked on Balthazar's own, though the angel's attention was noticeably elsewhere.

"Are you interested in expanding your business ventures?"

 

Balthazar lifted his gaze to meet Crowley’s. “Hm? My business ventures are primarily in resale, as it were.” He took another sip of the whiskey. Damn good stuff. Could’ve maybe been drinking it neat, but that was one of the many advantages of being a supernatural entity. Liquor was never too harsh on the tongue. “What did you have in mind?”

He was not at all surprised by the laziness and incompetence of most demons. Not at all.

 

"I'm looking to get into real estate," Crowley said simply, taking another drink of his whiskey before he continued. "You strike me as someone who understands the nuances of a good location."

He wondered if he was being too coy for Balthazar to appreciate, but then the angel seemed the type who would be taken by a game of cat and mouse, were he well matched. Crowley surmised that he was a proper match indeed. Still, he decided to sweeten the pot as it was presently revealed.

"How do you feel about the resale of souls?"

 

"Now _that_ ," he said, with a smirk, "is something I've been looking into, myself." He gestured towards a collection of various artifacts on display. "I'm sure you've heard of the staff of Moses?"

He set his drink down on a side table, leaned forward, and let his elbows rest on his knees. "What, _precisely_ , are you proposing? If we're going to deal, I need details."

 

Crowley grinned slowly, switching his glass to his other hand. He shifted slightly in his seat in order to turn his head and have a better look at the artifacts to which Balthazar had gestured.

"Ah, now that's _exactly_ why I knew you were just the man for the job," he said emphatically, looking at the angel again. "I won't even insult you by asking how much you know about Purgatory. The bottom line is that it's underused, adjacent to my kingdom, and I want access to it."

He swirled his drink in his glass lazily, eyes fixated on Balthazar to gauge his reaction.

"And I'm offering half the souls therein, if you're willing to help me locate it."

 

Balthazar steepled his fingers. "Now, hold on a moment. It's not that I don't like your plan, because I do, but there's a bit of a snag." He chewed his lip. "I don't know if you realize, and I also have no intention of trying to insult your intelligence here, but the sort of damage that amount of power could wreak on a vessel..."

He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's quite traumatic. I don't know that either of us would survive, depending on the number of souls housed there."

For a while he stared up at the light fixtures, deep in thought. "Suppose you and I had a few trusted underlings with whom we could disseminate the power. Not all of it, of course, not even close, but just enough to spread things out."

 

Crowley raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, leaning forward in his seat as if doing so would immerse him further into the conversation.

"I find it curious you assumed I would want all that power in one vessel. I realize it's different for demons than angels, but I'm rather fond of the meatsuit I'm wearing, and I have no intention of letting any harm come to it."

He took a drink of his whiskey and set the glass down on his own side table, letting his hand fall to the leather arm of the chair in which he sat. His fingers played over the fabric, but he was still focusing his attention on Balthazar.

"I'm not averse to such precautions, however. I just... find it interesting, the way your mind works," the demon said with a smile.

 

“Well, I can see _why_ you wouldn’t want to risk the skin you’re in,” he noted. “And I’m ridiculously attached to mine, so let's not go that route." 

He shifted to make himself more comfortable (which hardly took effort, the chair was so accommodating to begin with) and smiled broadly at Crowley. "Insofar as the souls, I can't claim to speak for the workings of Hell, but in Heaven we bet with all our chips and pass the winnings up to daddy. I'm used to seeing power consolidated."

Balthazar watched Crowley touch the leather. Good.

 

"In Hell, daddy is me," Crowley said, his tongue playing over the roof of his mouth before he continued. "Your half is just that. Sell them, trade them, wrap them up with a bow and send them up to Heaven as a show of good faith," he chuckled. "I promise to play fair."

Crowley put his hands together in a mockery of prayer, and his smile grew.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that vessel of yours. You won't have to get your hands dirty."

 

"They won't be going upstairs, I can promise you that much."

There wasn't much whiskey left. He finished it off and licked his lips.

"And let's not be hasty. After all, you're talking to the bloke who left paradise with his pockets full." Balthazar grinned. "I'm more than willing to get my hands dirty. Like most things, with proper care, I'm washable."

 

"Well, nothing that a trip to the dry cleaner won't get out, anyway." 

Crowley sat back in his chair, smiling as he picked up his glass to finish off his whiskey. 

"Now usually," the demon continued, pausing for a moment to down the last of his drink. "When I make a deal, I like to have it sealed. Admittedly, this is something of a unique situation, but I'd like to write up a contract all the same. You understand."

 

Balthazar let his chin rest in his hand and watched Crowley's throat as he swallowed the whiskey. 

“I’d offer to get you a notary, but I imagine they're all in Hell, aren't they?" He laughed at his own joke. "I can't say I've ever sealed a contract like this, whether crossroads demon or someone much, much higher up, such as yourself. Isn't a soul usually required?"

 

"Usually, but we're adaptable, remember?" The demon smiled, running his index finger in idle patterns over the arm of the chair. "My vessel was a notary public in his terribly boring spare time," he admitted.

 

“That’s convenient.”

There was a long moment of silence that lingered somewhere between awkward and amicable. Balthazar continued staring as Crowley's fingertip wandered over the smooth arm of the chair.

When he spoke again, it was with a tone as conversational and comfortable as before, while they'd been discussing business matters, but took a sharp turn towards the extremely personal.

"I'm sorry, this may be too forward, but would you like to fuck?" 

 

Crowley tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes bright and locked on Balthazar's, and he leaned forward slowly as if to ascertain if he had in fact heard correctly. He began loosening his tie with practiced fingers, but he was leisurely about the act.

"You're playing my song, ducky. Thought you'd never ask."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pssssst
> 
> the porn's in here

Balthazar smirked, incredibly pleased with himself. “You can’t fondle a man’s furniture like that without giving him some ideas, you know.”

He moved with such ease, it was obvious he felt completely at home in his vessel. He crossed the short distance between them as casually as if he’d gone to check the oven.

“This _is_ how one would typically finalize negotiations with the King of Hell, is it not?”

Without further hesitation, Balthazar leaned down towards him, braced one knee between Crowley’s thighs, looped his arms around his neck, and kissed him soundly.

 

Crowley was delighted with Balthazar's forwardness, though he was equally as surprised, but managed not to show it. He ran his hands along the angel's back, pulling him closer, and uttered something between a moan and a chuckle.

"You have impeccable taste," Crowley said, breaking the kiss to do so, but speaking against Balthazar's lips, and kissing him yet again before he continued. "I'd love to see the bedroom."

 

Balthazar knew what he wanted, and always took it, wherever possible. This was a nice bit of serendipity.

When Crowley’s palms passed the angel’s shoulder blades, he shuddered. Humans couldn’t affect the phantom-limb nerve endings of his wings, but demons evidently could.

“I do,” he replied, “And you will, I assure you. But we’re in no rush to leave the armchair, are we?”

He shrugged out of his blazer and tossed it towards the chair he’d previously been sitting in. The garment caught on the back, balanced for a moment, then slipped to the floor. Oh well. As Crowley had said, nothing a trip to the dry cleaners couldn’t fix.

“Because let me tell you, this chair can lead to some _fantastic_ things.”

Balthazar pressed his knee to Crowley’s groin with enough pressure to tempt but not to hurt.

 

"Is that why you bought it?" Crowley asked with a hint of amusement, his fingertips playing along Balthazar's shoulder blades again now that there was only the thin fabric of his shirt between them.

He had felt the shudder and suspected what it meant, the notion of which sent ideas tumbling through the demon's mind. He'd been with an angel before, but not in such a capacity that allowed him the freedom of exploration. He planned to change that.

"I'm a bit overdressed," he added, pressing against Balthazar's knee slightly before sitting back enough to begin removing his overcoat.

Crowley appreciated layers, and felt that they added to his overall allure, but Balthazar's penchant for the exact opposite proved equally effective.

 

“I bought it because I needed a place to sit,” Balthazar explained. He closed his eyes and sucked in a harsh breath when Crowley rubbed at his back again. “But you’ll find, and this is brilliant, that it’s at _exactly_ the right height to give and get head.”

He stepped back to allow Crowley to undress, and grabbed a throw pillow off the couch while he was at it. Not that he was especially prone to discomfort, but may as well prevent it rather than ignore it, when he could.

 

Crowley grinned and stood to peel off his coat, which he folded once and then flung over the back of the chair. He might have been inclined to remain standing now that the possibility of getting head was on the table, but he was far more interested in utilizing Balthazar's chair, and Crowley was never one to receive without giving in kind.

He sat down and continued the removal of his tie that he'd started earlier, though he left it on and shrugged off his blazer, which he tossed over top of his coat on back of the chair. Crowley wasn't too eager to get naked, as the journey was half the adventure, and he figured Balthazar was apt to agree.

"That being the case," he said, watching Balthazar with interest. "I think I should have fondled your chair longer."

 

“Oh, love, it’s not the _chair_ that does it,” Balthazar quipped. He enjoyed being a shit now and then. Or all the time. “Do you need a demonstration?”

He dropped the pillow to the floor, at Crowley’s feet (with his impeccably shined shoes), then dropped to his knees. With a sly grin, he ran his hands slowly up Crowley’s thighs and let them rest at his waist, with his fingers hooked into Crowley’s belt loops and his thumbs digging circles at his hip.

“The problem with this vessel, if you can call it a problem,” he mused, “is that when you talk to Americans, and they see this house, they assume that you are a rich foreigner, and everyone is _so_ quick to bend over.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that I’d mind, generally, but no one will let _me_ spoil _them_.”

 

Crowley found himself quite drawn to Balthazar's neck and especially his throat, a fact that the angel was probably quite used to as he wore a shirt that accentuated that aspect of his physique. He was not known to be picky by any means, but Crowley certainly held in high regard an attractive human form, and he was quick to undress Balthazar's with his eyes.

"Oh darling, spoil away," he said with a smile, taking Balthazar's chin in hand lovingly and running his thumb along his jaw. "I'm bloody worth it."

 

“Damn right you are, or I wouldn’t be down here.” For a moment he leaned into the touch, but Balthazar was also not known for his patience, and soon turned his head to catch Crowley’s thumb between his teeth. He ran his tongue against the pad of it for the briefest of instants.

“Careful now, I _have_ been known to bite.” He began to unbuckle Crowley’s belt with deft fingers that now officially belonged to a pianist. “Not anywhere that’d be an issue, granted, but still.”

 

"I've been known to bite back," Crowley said with a sly grin, running his hand through Balthazar's hair now as he watched the angel's fingers work. "But I think you were hoping I would, if you played your cards right."

He was growing impatient, though Balthazar was doing little to tease, but the bulge in Crowley's pants was fast demanding attention, and it was getting worse just watching Balthazar unbuckle his belt. Crowley bit his lip, rolling his hips toward Balthazar in a brief show of urgency.

 

“I’m not at all concerned with the cards anymore, sweetheart.” Button, then zipper, then his hand sneaking into Crowley’s trousers to palm him greedily. “They’re all tossed to the floor and we can pick them up much, much later.”

Balthazar teased him through the silk of his boxers for a while. There was a lot to appreciate about the very pretty picture before him. He traced the outline of Crowley’s erection before slipping his fingers past the waistband to grip him, bold and sure.

“But you’re more than welcome to bite me, if you please.”

 

Crowley let his head fall back from the simple pleasure of flesh on flesh, and he couldn't help but moan, unconcerned with appearing the least bit inhibited. They were both professionals, after all, and Balthazar was not interested in pretense any more than he was.

"My mouth will undoubtedly be all over you before the night is through," he retorted, his voice huskier now that things were progressing.

 

“I for one am _certainly_ looking forward to that.”

Balthazar was relieved to encounter another uncut cock. He’d started to wonder if it was just an American thing, or what, and was tired of his playmates staring at his junk, and not in the appealing way.

He lifted his gaze to meet Crowley’s eyes and jerked him off for a few slow, indulgent strokes before licking wet across the head with a flat, slick tongue.

 

"Mmm, this chair makes me feel like a king," Crowley smiled, jerking an eyebrow and gazing down at Balthazar. "Fitting, that."

He sighed contentedly, tightening his grip in Balthazar's hair but without being forceful about it. Crowley had no intention of being rude but he was certainly enthusiastic.

 

“A king, indeed…”

Balthazar closed his eyes and took Crowley’s length into his mouth. He vocalized his own enthusiasm, muffled as he swallowed him down, and kept his hand moving steadily at the base of his cock.

It’d been far too long since he’d sucked a dick. He found himself hoping this would be a routine occurrence.

 

Crowley seemed to have a similar thought. He growled low in his throat as Balthazar took him in, nails scratching gently at his scalp in an act of encouragement.

"Oh angel," he breathed, smiling. "Either you're a bloody natural or you've had lots of practice. I can't decide which would please me more..."

Crowley’s scalp-scritching efforts were... well, _divine_ probably was not the best word for this scenario. Sinful? That’d work.

Balthazar pulled back with a debauched, audible slurping sound. He was something of an exhibitionist; what of it? “I’d like to think it’s both,” he replied. “It gets me off, at any rate, and clearly you as well, so.”

He shrugged.

“Back to it, then, yeah?”

With a contented sigh, he wrapped his lips around Crowley’s thick cock again and sucked him down, keeping his hand moving all the while.

  
  
  
[click for full image (NSFW)](http://crowlazar.tumblr.com/post/62023630024/time-for-some-porn)   
  


Crowley let out another moan, rolling his hips eagerly toward Balthazar. His hand that was not wrapped in the angel's hair had found purchase on his back, just below the shoulder.

While Crowley enjoyed being pampered, he actually found that he missed not having anything to do in return, though he knew he only had to be patient; they had the whole night ahead of them, and Crowley was certain Balthazar had just as many ideas lined up as he did. Still, he licked his lips, lost in fantasies involving Balthazar's cock while the man himself sucked down his length.

"Does it recline..." he asked, though it came out as simply words rather than a properly formed question. Crowley was gazing at the ceiling, his eyes fixated on a particularly stunning chandelier.

 

Balthazar nodded, and incorporated the bobbing of his head into his fellating efforts. Without so much as a pause, he used his free hand to reach for a button on the side of the chair, and tilted it halfway back. No need to turn this into some kind of dental office kink, unless Crowley was into that.

He lifted that hand to rest on Crowley’s thigh, and squeezed at the wool of the slacks and the strong muscles, very pleased with both.

 

Crowley found this new position better suited his desire to move his hips to meet Balthazar's rhythm, though he was careful not to choke the man, despite his inclination to fuck the mouth pleasuring him.

His hand at the angel's back had fallen to the arm of the chair once he'd been reclined, the other still firmly planted against Balthazar's head, encouraging further movement but in no way forcing it. Crowley was, by his own admission, a gentleman about such things. If Balthazar wanted to be treated like little more than a fuck toy, Crowley would happily oblige, but until then, he would be polite and take what was given. In fact...

"Get on top of me, angel," he growled, punctuating the statement with another roll of his hips. "Your hospitality is putting me to shame..."

 

Reluctant to stop, Balthazar ran his tongue along the underside and gave him a few more solid pumps before pulling away. He planted a quick kiss to the head of Crowley’s dick and looked up with a cheeky smile.

“It’s only because you’re such a wonderful houseguest,” he explained. “But if you’d like to return the favor, by all means.”

He reached around the chair to fully extend the footrest (which had been digging into his stomach for the past few minutes), then maneuvered to straddle the demon’s lap. His tight jeans left little to the imagination: just the way he wanted it.

“Is that better?” he asked. Careful not to dig his belt buckle into Crowley’s groin, Balthazar leaned in to resume kissing him.

 

Crowley responded with a positive grunt, pulling Balthazar in to deepen the kiss while his other hand reached between them to trace the outline of the bulge in his jeans. He gave it an experimental squeeze, smiling against the angel's lips.

"I'd like to see what you're packing, darling," he said, voice an interested lilt.

He found it curious, though unsurprising, that Balthazar was used to being pleasured, but the fact that he was eager to return the favor for once left Crowley in an intriguing position. While he did not intend to take undue advantage of the angel's brand of hospitality, he was very anxious to see what he could get Balthazar to do for him if he asked nicely.

 

“I ought to show you mine, as you’ve been so kind as to show me yours.”

Balthazar reached down to unbuckle his belt and tug it free from his jeans. He draped it over the back of the chair.

“Better keep the belt nearby. Could come in handy later.”

He unzipped his fly and grasped Crowley’s wrist to bring his hand down to fondle him through the bold red cotton of a thong that was not hiding much of anything.

“It says ‘angel’ on the back,” he snickered. “I couldn’t resist.”

 

"I'm counting on seeing the back for myself," Crowley said with a grin, running his fingers along Balthazar's confined length.

He eyed the belt as it had been laid over the back of the chair, making a mental note that yes, it would indeed come in handy later, and he was quite pleased Balthazar agreed.

"And if you'd like to continue your show of hospitality," Crowley continued. "You're welcome to it, but you did say this chair was well-suited to the giving _and_ receiving of head, and I'd much prefer to be doing both at once."

Crowley smiled, leaning up to kiss Balthazar once more, though he paused for effect and spoke softly against the angel's lips.

"Efficiency, you know."

 

Crowley had very nice fingers, and a practiced touch to boot. As they kissed, Balthazar pushed his hips forward towards the demon’s hand. “Mm, I’m afraid the chair isn’t quite _that_ stable, so unless you’d like it to topple and for us to fuck on the floor…”

He trailed off, considering it, then shook his head. “No, I think it’s high time I give you the grand tour.”

Balthazar swept his tongue across Crowley’s lower lip, and with a rush of wind, they were tangled atop the grey satin sheets of a California King. He straddled Crowley’s lap and pushed indulgently against him.

“I’ve taken the liberty of removing our shoes,” he noted. “I honestly can’t be arsed to deal with them right now.”

 

Crowley was just about to comment on how toppling the chair and fucking on the floor didn't sound like a terrible idea when Balthazar whisked them up to the bedroom. The sudden change in scenery caught him by surprise despite his own affinity for popping in and out at random, and he knew he must have looked puzzled. This quickly faded as Balthazar pressed against him.

"Or walking," he quipped. "You couldn't be arsed to deal with that, either."

The irony was not lost on Crowley, though admittedly he would have liked to watch Balthazar walk, but then he figured he would much prefer it after he'd had his way with the angel. That would be all manner of fun. He anticipated they would both be parting ways with a bit of a limp after they were through, and for that it was probably fortunate that neither actually had the need to walk.

He lifted his hips obscenely against Balthazar and pulled him closer, hands digging into the ass of his jeans.

"Now then, where were we?"

 

As tantalizing as Crowley’s hands on his ass were, Balthazar had to extract himself from his grip. Just a little. Just for a while.

“I believe we were about to rid ourselves of these damned pants,” he began, hoisting himself up enough to tug down his jeans further and eventually -- blessedly -- off. “And resume the cocksucking.”

He lay down opposite his newfound partner, propped a pillow underneath his chest, and took Crowley’s dick back into his mouth.

 

Crowley growled appreciatively as soon as Balthazar’s lips were once again wrapped around his dick, though he wasted no time in grabbing the angel's ass again, now made far more accessible to him without those pesky jeans. He reached between his partner's legs to pull the thong aside, freeing Balthazar's cock. He grinned, fingers lingering along his balls.

“You're positively edible, darling,” Crowley said, licking his lips as he took in the sight before him. "It's no wonder your guests are so quick to bend over."

He leaned in to run his lips along Balthazar's shaft, making a point to graze his stubbled cheek against the flesh. Crowley was eager, but he was curious how well Balthazar would take to being teased.

 

"As I said, I'm very fond of this vessel." The instant he was done speaking, his mouth was back on Crowley's cock and coating it with saliva.

The teasing was right up his alley. All the efforts he'd made for Crowley's sake had ramped his arousal to a fever pitch. Balthazar let out a throaty, urgent noise and sped up his suckling. This was a huge reason he enjoyed a good sixty-nine: pleasuring his partner(s) got him harder than anything they could do for his sake.

He was selfish in many ways, but never in bed, and he was damned proud of that.

 

Crowley responded by enveloping Balthazar's cock in his mouth, moaning long and low around it, lifting his hips into him softly but with a show of urgency. He was so hard it was almost painful, and while Balthazar's sucking served to ease that tension, Crowley was beginning to feel ashamedly desperate.

He wondered vaguely if there was anything to it, this sudden feeling of wanting and sexual gluttony, because although Crowley was no stranger to sin--he sold it gladly and indulged just as often--there was something about this house and the angel who resided in it that left him with an intense need to be sated.

It was with this strange brand of need that Crowley sucked Balthazar off, feeling every bit the whore for it, though that particular aspect would remain his little secret for the time being. This, he thought to himself, must be the real reason Balthazar's sexual partners were always so quick to offer themselves up to be fucked, though the ins and outs of it (pun intended, naturally) left Crowley somewhat vexed.

 

/Oh , and there it was. Balthazar groaned around Crowley's cock and swallowed him down to the base. Impulsively, he grabbed Crowley's ass and pushed his partner's hips towards his mouth. Although it would be a bizarre thing to comment upon, the slightly sweaty scent of Crowley's pubic hair was a visceral turn-on that couldn't be discounted. After a few more moments of vigorous sucking, he pulled away to speak.

'Beg' may have been a better choice of verb.

"I want you to take me," he said, breathily, watching intensely as Crowley went down on him. "As hard as you possibly can."

 

Crowley groaned, releasing Balthazar slowly and with a shameful slurp. He looked down at the angel, smiling and speaking against the head of his cock.

"Darling, did you read my mind or am I that much of an open book?" He was surprised he even had it in him to convey proper thought, so inebriated with lust was he. "Show me where you keep the goods and I'll take you any way you please."

 

Balthazar stared openly as Crowley spoke, and at the slip shine of saliva on his bottom lip. Holy _fuck_.

He grinned to himself. This was much more of an unholy fuck, as it were.

"Doesn't much matter where they're kept." With a snap of his fingers, a bottle of lubricant materialized on the bed. Its label was in Italian. "They're always available."

Balthazar shifted to lie on his back and lifted his hips to slide off the thong. What a fantastic acquisition it'd been. With a smirk, he pulled it off and tossed it... well, somewhere.

 

"Most things are, if you know where to look," Crowley replied with far more of a steady tone than the red smoke swirling around behind his visage would indicate. He had forgotten in all his distractions that Balthazar could actually see his true face.

Crowley's smile widened. He'd always appreciated doing things the human way, as he felt it added to the overall experience, but he was certainly not opposed to Getting Things Done. Balthazar was obviously above such trifling matters as where and when and how, preferring instead to get right down to his vices, here and now and any which way he liked. Crowley could respect that. He could get accustomed to that.

He'd already decided, then, that this would become a recurring transaction, as it were, and he would be the first to admit that was a little presumptive. Crowley wasn't terribly bothered; he was the bloody king of hell, for fuck's sake, and if an angel was going to outright beg for a fuck, he'd be stupid to refuse. He'd be stupid to get addicted, too.

With a snap of his own fingers, Crowley was naked, well past the notion of trying to be sensual about it, his eyes blinking to red as he eyed the mostly naked Balthazar. He reached for the bottle of lube without removing his gaze from the angel.

"Before we begin, it seems only fitting I confess something to you, given that you're you and I'm me."

Crowley grinned, pouring an ample amount of lubricant into his hand with which to begin preparing himself. Truth be told, he couldn't get his hand around his cock fast enough.

"It's been quite awhile since I've played the role of plug rather than socket. Truly kismet, our meeting."

 

"Well, if we find this arrangement suitably electric, we can always reverse the current later." He paused, then frowned at his own choice of wording. "Eh. I was trying to stick with the theme but I admit that last metaphor was a bit of a stretch."

After sparing another glance at Crowley touching himself, Balthazar smirked and rolled onto his stomach.

"But yes, this is some much-needed serendipity, for both of us, I imagine."

He braced his knees against the bed and lifted his ass. "Don't keep me waiting _too_ long."

 

Crowley grinned like a boy in a candy store and sat up on his knees, running his hand over Balthazar's ass and along his hip. He lingered a bit before retrieving the lube and squirting a bit more into his already slickened hand, sliding his fingers along the crack of Balthazar's ass, breaching him experimentally.

"Does it feel like an eternity yet, darling? You would know..."

 

Balthazar made a very contented noise and pushed back towards Crowley’s hand.

“I’ve never been particularly patient, I’ll admit.” The chain around his neck brushed the bedsheets; the collar of his shirt hung low and exposed his skin. Balthazar rested on his elbows and forearms and looked back to the King of Hell.

“But it’s worth it, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Crowley glanced down at him, chuckling softly as Balthazar pressed back against his hand, which he then removed as he scooted himself closer, leaving Balthazar wanting. He held fast to Balthazar's hip with one hand, gripping his cock in the other to tease the angel's opening.

"Oh, I'm always worth the wait," he cooed, entering him with more force than he perhaps would have were Balthazar not an angel.

 

Crowley was thick and hard and perfect. Balthazar groaned, unabashed, aching for it.

“Yes,” he hissed, through gritted teeth. “Yes, you are. Oh, please…”

He slipped his hand beneath his body to stroke his dick in time with Crowley’s thrusting.

 

As if Crowley wasn't pleased enough with himself, Balthazar was stroking his ego with every stroke of his own cock. He let out a moan and thrust pointedly to punctuate it, gripping Balthazar's hips to keep him in place.

"Please what, darling?" he asked, voice low and sensual.

 

Balthazar laughed, breathless, and lifted his ass to force Crowley balls-deep into him.

“Fuck me, of course,” he replied. It would’ve been nonchalant, save for the slick noises of his hand and Crowley’s length slamming into his tight hole. “Or shall I spell it out?”

 

Crowley laughed somewhat darkly, perhaps an unintentional effect of being a demon.

"I thought I was. Am I not doing it to your specifications? Not hard enough?"

With that, he thrust harder, pulling Balthazar back against him forcefully which served to make the accompanying sounds all the more lewd.

"I actually don't think you're making quite enough noise yet..."

 

Balthazar let out a choked, urgent sound and arched his back, his shoulder blades just slightly noticeable beneath the fabric of his shirt. The air flickered with power and light, but only for an instant.

“/Harder ,” he demanded. “Fuck me like you mean it!”

He fisted his hands in the bedsheets and braced himself for what was sure to be quite the show.

 

Crowley purred low in his throat, watching Balthazar beneath him with a smile that betrayed a mixture of amusement and arousal. He scooted forward slightly on a thrust, running his hands along Balthazar's back and over his shoulder blades before Crowley gripped either shoulder and pulled back, forcing the angel hard against his cock.

His resultant moan was far less controlled. "Ohhhh, we're going to be such good friends, you and me..."

 

Balthazar shouted his pleasure and let Crowley force him backward. He lifted his head to bare his neck to the demon for anything and everything he may want to do to it. To say that he was open-minded was to severely underestimate just how much the angel was willing (and eager) to try.

“You can see my wings, can’t you?” he panted. “I want you to grab them.”

 

Crowley leaned forward for a better angle, the fingertips of his left hand grazing along Balthazar's shoulder and across his neck, tightening around his throat to punctuate an especially grand thrust. His right hand moved to rest between Balthazar's shoulder blades, teasing the base of both wings ever so slightly.

"Is that a request or a demand?"

 

Although Balthazar didn’t strictly require oxygen, he was deliberately breathing so he could deliberately be cut off from his breath. It gave his vessel a fantastic rush. He let his eyes flutter closed as he choked.

He strained to speak. “I’m begging,” he managed. He knew that’s what Crowley wanted, and he wasn’t above begging for what he needed.

When Crowley’s fingers brushed against his back, he nearly lost all of his self-control… which wasn’t much to begin with, granted.

 

That was indeed precisely what Crowley was looking for, and he smiled appreciatively, offering Balthazar a pleased moan low in his throat. Again Crowley brushed the base of Balthazar's wings, giving his throat an especially tight squeeze as he ran his fingertips up along the right wing, agonizingly slow.

Before Balthazar could protest at such teasing, he grabbed the wing at the base forcefully and pulled back, using it as leverage to fuck the angel.

Crowley let out a rather uncontrolled noise in pleasure, finding himself overcome with lust at the sight of Balthazar beneath him.

"I could tie you up and fuck you for ages."

 

It reminded him, in an odd way, of the rough and tumble flight-wrestling he’d done with his siblings when they were younger. Much younger, in fact, before the Earth itself had aged. Why this association turned him on…. well, this was neither the time nor place to go into that.

“I’d let you,” he gasped. “I’d let you fuck me forever.”

Balthazar slammed his ass back onto Crowley’s cock and groaned, deep in his throat.

 

"Do you mean it, darling?" Crowley whispered breathily, releasing his grip on Balthazar's neck to grab hold of his neglected wing.

Both were now held tight behind the angel's back, a mimicry of how one might bind another's arms, and if Crowley had something to hold them in place, he would have done so. There would be plenty of time for that later, but for now he wanted to focus on the present and not bother with an outside force.

"You're positively sinful, Balthazar. I bet you get off on that delicious irony."

Crowley felt his vessel's sudden urge to come, but he stifled it with a grunt. He wouldn't be undone that easily; his pride insisted the angel fall first.

"I could take you home with me. You'd be the only one in Hell screaming in anything other than pain. How does that sound?"

 

He cried out; he couldn’t help it. It was a combination of the thick cock sliding flawlessly into his tight asshole and the vicious twist of Crowley’s soft, strong hands grasping his wings. It was much like having your hair pulled, except with far greater surface area.

“Of course I mean it,” he snapped, faux-insulted. “You’re fucking me on my own bed, about to share the souls of Purgatory with me, and you think I’m insincere?”

 

"I think you've got a mouth on you," Crowley countered, holding both wings back with one hand so he could give Balthazar a reach around. "And I've a mind to fuck it senseless later."

His fingers played over the mottled feathers, brown and gold and striking. Crowley lacked the capacity to express his appreciation at being permitted to see them; he was a demon, after all, but he relished in their exposure, nonetheless.

"I love making you tremble..."

 

Balthazar chuckled, breathless. “Is that an offer? I do hope so.”

He alternated between bucking his hips into Crowley’s grip and pushing back against his dick. It was simultaneously too much and not enough.

“You’ll make me do more than tremble if you keep that up.”

It’d been far too long since anyone’d held his wings while he got fucked. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t invite any of his human lovers to take part, lest they panic and call the authorities. No sense starting a riot, or (hilariously) a witch hunt.

 

"And I intend to."

Crowley had found a suitable rhythm with which to pump Balthazar's cock while simultaneously pulling him back by the wings to fuck him. He was always the first to say he was impressed with his own ingenuity.

"You're mine now, darling. I don't give up my toys easily."

 

“Then play with me, sweetheart.” Balthazar screwed his eyes shut and groaned out his pleasure. Crowley’s fingers were so tight around his cock, he was aching for release. Yet another advantage of being celestial: he could come as often as he liked, or hold out as long as he liked.

But with the head of Crowley’s erection prodding his prostate with every other rough thrust, he didn’t think he _wanted_ to wait much longer.

“There’s a reason,” he panted, “That you’re the king of all sin, hmm?”

 

Crowley growled, leaning over Balthazar and gripping his wings tightly as he thrust into him as if his warranty were about to expire.

"Flattery," he breathed, "will get you everywhere."

He was so close to his orgasm, he could practically taste it, and he released his internal grip on his vessel's base functions to accommodate a speedy release; it was beginning to matter less and less who came first, as long as everyone had a happy ending. They could fight over stamina later.

"...chain you to the bloody bed..." Crowley muttered, his mind consumed with sex and possibilities.

 

Balthazar reached under himself to bat Crowley’s hand away, to finish on his own terms. Besides, Crowley was already holding his wings back _and_ pounding his ass; demon or not, king or not, the man could only be expected to do so much at once.

And this meant Crowley could focus solely on the thrusting. That was precisely what Balthazar wanted.

“I think you’ll find I’m not going anywhere,” he assured him. He pressed his cheek into the sheets and moaned, unashamed, as he stroked himself.

 

Crowley made a noise in protest initially as Balthazar moved his hand away, but he quickly saw the merit in it as he resumed gripping the angel's wings with both hands, allowing for a much more practiced thrust.

He pulled on the wings and Balthazar resisted, pressing his cheek against the bed, making Crowley work for it, which the demon appreciated. It was a gorgeous mockery of a game of tug of war. Crowley moaned appreciatively.

"You may not be going, but you had better be coming," he quipped, though his voice was far from controlled.

 

Those low, gravelly words were all it took to push him over the edge. Balthazar craned his neck back as Crowley yanked on his wings, as he slammed into his ass, and let out a throaty groan. He sped his hand up as he came, spurting hot and white onto the dark grey sheets.

“Oh, fuck…” He struggled to catch his breath, and lifted his hips to accommodate Crowley as he neared his own climax.

Balthazar glanced back at him over his shoulder, through the translucent haze of his feathers as they flickered in and out of visible perception. He continued to lazily fondle himself, gently now that he was hypersensitive.

“Don’t stop,” he demanded.

 

"Don't worry, ducky," Crowley panted. "I'm not through with you."

Contrary to his words, he moaned loudly almost as soon as he'd finished speaking, his voice raspy and unabashed. He held Balthazar fast against himself, cock spasming inside of him.

"Ohhh fucking hell..."

He gave his vessel only a moment's rest to regain human composure, releasing Balthazar's wings and wiping the sweat from his brow. Crowley took a deep breath and closed his eyes, once again fully enveloping his vessel, eliminating its fatigue and the accompanying instincts. When he opened his eyes, they were eerily lifeless and red.

Crowley chuckled, running his fingertips along Balthazar's ass and over his hips, gripping them for a moment before letting his hands trail back over the angel's wings and through his feathers.

"I'm going to need my tie," he mused lazily as he grasped either wing and offered Balthazar a thrust. "I have plenty of ideas..."

 

Balthazar let out a _very_ satisfied sigh and pressed his face to the mattress once more. Bent over as he was, at this angle, the chain of his necklace seemed like it might start slipping over his head. At the moment, it was caught up along his jawline. He appreciated the juxtaposition of the metal and the satin against his skin.

“I think we left it in the living room,” Balthazar said. “But I don’t much feel like moving just yet.”

He also really, really didn’t want Crowley to pull out yet. Still felt too good.

 

Crowley's ego was thoroughly stroked by the sight of Balthazar compromised and content below him. He hummed in his throat and fingered the angel's wings.

"There's no need," he replied, allowing his tie to manifest in his hand, the fabric draping over Balthazar's dark feathers. "You're quite perfect right where you are."

He wrapped it around the base of Balthazar's wings and pulled it taut, forming makeshift reins with which to hold onto. Crowley grinned and gave the tie a tug.

"Break's over, love."


End file.
